Dear Paul Lynde let us all maintain the standards of the center square.
6:43 PM :

3:30 (free thirdy) in the afternoon. On the crumbled school yard of Saint Mary's, all the flyyy black girls heads are bobbin' up and downnn. Silver puffy coats hide their blueee and white uniforms. Their fierce bandu-braids flyin' uuuup then down...cool lo double dutchin' to Jill Scott singin'Your background it ain't squeaky clean, shit sometimes we all gotta swim upstream, you ain't no saint we all are sinner, but you put your good foot down to make your soul the winner, I respect that, man it's so phat, and you're all that, plus supreme. then you're humble man I'll numb your feelin' I can feel everything that you bring-levitate a long walk.... conversation verbal elation, stimulation. my girls, given me a shout ooout thru the fence posts as I pass byeee... say lil peeps! Ladies in da house cool catholic girls on a cold Friday winterrr afternoooon, and its all good switchin' to 'wave your hands in the aira and wave em like you just don't cara' and I forget myself in their vivid elation, school yard funnn (yes that's 3 n's today for emphasis)
3:40 PM :

High on the visual, aesthetic and conceptual pleasure scale 'The Picasso of Graphic Design' (their term not mine) has Polymorphous interests. I (heart) you Milton Glaser P.S. You are no Raymond F. Loewy.
12:59 PM :

It's like a jungle sometimes it makes me wonder, how I keep from going under, ha ha ha HA!
9:51 AM :

Thursday, February 01, 2001
F. Scott Fitzgerald, Connoisseur of Kisses. '(young men)...and Gloria, between tears and laughter, sorry, glad, out of love and in love, miserable, nervous, cool, amidst a great returning of presents, substitution of pictures in immemorial frames, and taking of hot baths and beginning again --with the next.' Adoring F. Scott for using the word 'Brilliantine' and so many songs that are sweet and low down.

And now that there's Moonglow way up in the blue
I'll always remember
that Moonglow gave me you
10:39 PM :

Henri Matisse to Andr� Marchand on seeing "Do you know that a man has only one eye which sees and registers everything; this eye, like a superb camera which takes minute pictures, very sharp, tiny-and with that picture man tells himself; 'This time I know the reality of things,' and he is calm for a moment. Then, slowly superimposing itself on the picture, another eye makes its appearance, invisibly, which makes an entirley different picture for him. Our man no longer sees clearly, a struggle begines between the first and second eye, the fight is fierce, finally the second eye has the upper hand, takes over and thats the end of it. Now it has command of the situition, the second eye can then continue its work alone and elaborate its own picture according to the laws of interior vision. This very special eye is found here.' says Matisse, pointing to his brain.
3:33 PM :

The Work in Progress on keeping notebooks, sketchbooks and various items. I keep a notebook, well it's more of a sketchbook really, although it's unfair to say that it is filled with academic sketches of sorts, although there is some of that too. These sketchbooks are different and operate as a visual collection or catalog of items. Brand, sort and type, species examined: Strathmore SKETCH premium quality recycled, a general purpose sketch paper of 60 lb. weight used for experimentation and the perfecting of technique, part of the 400 series of wire bound papers, 9 x12, acid free white and lightly textured. 100 or so sheets nicely collected, decent binding with a substantial weight that feels heavy and good in my big hands. I never edit but collect items: from diner receipts to photos, flyers for clubs and bands, old muscle boy photos, erotica, weight training advice, photo copies, candy wrappers, doodles, newspaper clippings, urls, e-mail, obituaries, ads, plane ticket stubs, cocktail napkins with names and numbers, personal writings and observations, charcoal and pencil drawings of landscapes, faces and figures, notes from school lectures, observations, addresses, book titles, reading lists, grocery lists, lists and more lists, jokes, inspiration, small gouache(opaque water-colour) paintings and so on and so on and so on. Sometimes it takes a week to fill 100 pages, at times a month or two, but in it goes: tacked, taped, stuck, spray glued, glued, attached to formerly blank pages. I fill the page without the aid of the editorial left brain saying 'no don't' or 'you can't' or 'nope, no good' all is fair, all is good and all gets approval without rhyme or reason. All entries and items are significant in some way, how, I cannot explain, but it is, and there it will stay forever collected as some sort of index to a life. When there are no more pages to fill, it goes up on my book shelf with all the other books that represent months and now years. I sometimes take them down and browse through items, especially if I am looking for inspiration. My distinct visual or written vocabulary appears, an index to what catches my eye. These collected works have made it past the very critical left brain, each page a surprising revelation, food for thought, resource for the written and the visual.
11:24 AM :

Wednesday, January 31, 2001
The Kahiki Supper Club is now a memory, torn down and replaced by a Walgreens. Aloha to Giant Tiki gods and flaming drinks in giant coconuts. Preserving our Architectural Heritage: 'The Tiki Wars', How Do We Distinguish The Historic From The Sentimental'.
8:40 AM :

Tuesday, January 30, 2001
"Give me your hand --
I'll understand
We're off to slumberland...
Moonlight is bright
Kiss me good night."...
11:03 PM :

I love a good strong cup of Coffee, hotter than hell to hold, OUCH! I head down the street, enjoying my cross town walk, and such a beautiful day. I turn the corner of East 9th and Superior passing Dave's office, I know I should have buzzed but it's sunny, I'm feeling impatient, and he is probably involved in some project; besides, it's too early for lunch. The light is amazing, some clouds, the skyscrapers cast long shadows. Glorious to smell stadium mustard and pretzels, watch business people react to the light of day, free from their cubicles. Missing New York, missing Toronto, missing all things urban, if that doesn't sound too pretentious. A hint of spring, deciding to challenge myself more, shitty day yesterday. Hitting the gym in another hour-arms today. Nothing better than to grab the heavy duty e-z curl bar loaded with weight, give my best grimace, let out a grunt and curl up! Exhale, grunt up again, stopping to stare at my pumped bulldog tattoo ...grunting, and trying not to laugh too hard at my testosterone laden performance; I do a pretty mean Rock imitation. God, I love being a guy.
1:24 PM :

Blossom Dearie = 1 Classic Beyond Madonna
Blossom Dearie 'Blossom Dearie' Verve Records-1959
I often list this collection as one of my favorites. Blossom Dearie, and that's her real name, is a bespecked impish American piano player and songstress who made the late 1950's Paris jazz scene. If Chet Baker and Betty Boop had a love child, it would be Blossom Dearie. On this self titled Verve release she is backed by bassist Ray Brown and drummer Jo Jones. Delivering intimate paired down renderings of songs, sometimes in a hip sort of Fran�glais-speak she covers the standards like Rogers and Hart, Hammerstein, Lowe etc. Very hip, cool swingin jazz done in a bright yet cool cabaret style, songs like: 'Comment Allez Vous', 'I Won't Dance' and 'You For Me' as well as the bonus 'It Might As Well Be Spring'. Warning, all chansons inspire l'amour! Romantic, savvy witty and playful.
8:39 AM :

Monday, January 29, 2001
Pop on over to the Royal Academy of Art and take in a bit of The Genius of Rome: Caravaggio, Carracci and Rubens. Brilliant. Make sure you stop to look at Caravaggio's The Stigmatisation of St. Francis I adore Michelangelo Merisi, as much as I adore Giovanni Francesco Barbieri otherwise known as Guercino. I swoon.
5:13 PM :

Sunday, January 28, 2001
Ahhh home at last! Giddy with glee, woozy with a wobbly equilibrium and ever so tired, returning from a snowboarding trip. I did some major snow rippin' on my K2 Fatbob. Busted through some trees past my buds on a chatter-insulated riding board, kickin it real close to the decks, dropping into the pipe. Popped a chubber throughout all of 7 Springs/Laurel Mountains! No beeeyoches to bug me, lookin way hot in my camo-pants (nice booty) and bunchy sympatex�coat. I am one hot hellion humdinger of a rider, no, no fancy SEGA moves, just some pure downhill insanity and boogie woogie man riding. I'm tired and cold, my ass hurts from crashing through the bunny trail and SLEEP is such a delicious word!
11:47 PM :